


Enough

by ShannaraIsles



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, First Kiss, First Sex, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, One-Shot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannaraIsles/pseuds/ShannaraIsles
Summary: A nasty encounter in the Western Approach gives Knight-Captain Rylen an opportunity to explore just what it is he's feeling for his second-in-command.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> For your ease of reading - this takes place after the Inquisition's capture of Griffon Wing Keep, and before the attack on Adamant. Rylen is in command of the keep, and Corinne is Leliana's agent in command of the region. She's an Orlesian city elf, for clarity's sake. ;)

The beast prowled over the sand, scales spiked, claws scoring the rock. Its toothy muzzle rose, sniffing at a jagged gap in the stone. There was blood, fresh blood, smeared on the rock, on its claws. Its prey might have escaped for now, but it would have to come out again sometime. The beast was patient. It could wait.

In the dark confines of the cave beyond that gap, two figures watched in tense silence as the varghest scraped experimentally at the rock, dislodging nothing more than a few loose pebbles for its trouble. It could not fit more than its nose into that gap, but it knew they were there. Perhaps, if they were very lucky, it would lose interest in prey that knew how to hide when its hunger returned.

As the fearsome predator pulled away from the gap, turning to prowl back and forth over the sand outside, the taller of the two figures began to shake, the effort of holding himself upright on a leg that had been clawed open proving too much to bear.

"Bastard beast," Rylen hissed between clenched teeth, staggering backward as carefully as he could to lower himself onto the cold sand that lined this small place of sanctuary.

It had been touch and go as to whether he was going to fit through that jagged gap himself, but his companion was even more stubborn than he was. She'd thrown sand in the varghest's eyes and pushed him through, heedless of the damage to his armor. After all, armor could be replaced. Knight-Captain Rylen could not.

He looked up at her in the gloom that enveloped them. The only light came from that gap in the rock, a bright burst of sunlight that dispersed through the little cave to offer a gentler illumination, turning blackness into sandy gray. Fennec, her code name was, Sister Nightingale's appointment to the Western Approach and Griffon Wing Keep in particular; an Orlesian elf with a cheeky smile and a deadly knife. Sweet to look at, lethal to cross. And impossible for him to ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

"It could have been worse," she murmured to him, dropping to her knees to inspect the damage done to his leg. "Others will come."

"Aye, but not for hours yet," he pointed out, his back arching as pain blossomed at her touch.

His eyes were not yet accustomed to this half-light, but he didn't need to look to know that his calf had been laid open from knee to ankle. The blood felt like it was pouring into his boot. Those delicate hands of hers were gentle, but not even a gentle touch could keep him from feeling as though his flesh wanted to crawl away from the agony that gripped his limb.

"Easy." Her hand rose to curl over his clenched fist, shadowed face lifting to seek out the glint of his eyes in the darkness. "It is not as bad as it must feel, nor as deep, but there may be sand or venom in the wound."

Rylen let out a huff of mirthless laughter. "And here's me without my full packet of antidotes," he drawled, trying to keep his mind off the pain. "Don't suppose you could suck it out with that clever mouth of yours?"

His elven companion snorted with laughter of her own. "My mouth is _not_ that big."

"Big enough to argue with orders, lass," he pointed out, glancing furtively toward the narrow gap in the rock as the varghest's shadow passed by once again.

"When the order is foolish, yes," she agreed, shifting where she knelt beside him to remove one glove. As he watched, she gripped the sleeve of her coat and ripped it cleanly at the seam on her shoulder, turning her attention to tying her new length of rag above his knee to slow the bleeding. "Like trying to fight a particularly nasty varghest with no back up. You could have died, you idiot."

"You should've run when I told you to," Rylen reminded her, his mild tone more to do with the pain than his actual feeling on the matter. If he'd been uninjured, likely he would have been furious with her. "No sense in both of us getting dead."

Her head snapped up, a sharp look in her eyes for his comment. "I will not leave you, Rylen."

The sheer force of stubborn certainty in her voice was enough to silence his instinct to insist, even without the unexpected intimacy of hearing his name on her lips for the first time. In the month since they'd been assigned to the Western Approach, she had called him knight-captain and ser, never once using the given name he allowed so many to use freely. But then ... didn't he do the same thing? She was Fennec, or lass, or mistress on his lips, never anything closer than a title laid upon her. His hand turned to take her bare fingers in his gloved grasp.

"If I'm to die here, I've no wish to bring you with me, Corinne."

She was still for a long moment, the only indication that she had even heard him in the gentle flex of her fingers against his covered palm. Blast this gloom ... he couldn't see her face clearly, couldn't judge her reaction to her own name spoken aloud. Then she moved again, offering him the sweep of her gloved fingers against his temple.

"If you die here, I will enter the Void and drag you back screaming," she promised him firmly, pressing her leather-clad thumb against his lips for a brief moment. "Now shut up ... I think I can hear water."

He stilled obediently, not even bothering to strain his own senses. He knew his limits; compared with her hearing, he was lucky he heard footsteps on gravel behind him. She might be Orlesian, but she was an elf above all - Corinne had trained her natural senses and _earned_ her place in the Inquisition. He wasn't stupid enough to deny that. After a long moment, she nodded.

"Yes, water. Come."

Rising to a crouch, she wrapped her arms about his torso, helping to guide him up onto his one good leg as much as she could, both of them ignoring the profanities slipping from his lips as the movement set the pain alight once again. With stumbling, agonized steps, leaning heavily on the diminuitive woman under his arm, he managed to navigate the narrow passage time had cut into this rock face by sheer force of will and bloodymindedness, never so grateful to sit as he was when she finally eased him down onto damp smooth stone. The effort was so great, in fact, that he promptly passed out.

Corinne smiled to herself as Rylen's eyes rolled back in his head, gently guiding him down to lie flat without braining himself in the process. He wouldn't be out for long, she guessed, but perhaps long enough to allow her to deal with that wound on his leg.

The water source she had heard was a trickle from high above, where the cave was open to the sky, allowing more light to enter and illuminate the red-sand rock that surrounded them. The trickle itself fed a shallow pool, but there was no other exit from this dead-end. They were here for the duration, at least until his soldiers got back to the Keep and told his second-in-command that the knight-captain had been chased into a cave by an angry varghest. He was a mess, from his dented and scratched armor to the bloodied claw marks on his leg, to the uncomfortable pallor that made the dark blue of his tattoos stand stark from his face. She wasn't going to soon forget the way her heart had clenched when the varghest's claws had caught him; the way her instinct to run had been replaced with the instinct to save him, throwing herself directly into danger just to keep Rylen alive. And now he might bleed out in front of her if she didn't get a move on.

Dragging her other glove off, she made quick work of undoing her belts, divesting herself of her weapons, removing her ruined coat. She'd already destroyed one sleeve, the rest of it was fair game now. Pulling a pair of small bottles from one of those discarded belt pouches, she turned her attention to removing his boots as gently as she could, wincing at every unconscious flinch and sound of pain. Her knife came into play to cut the tattered remains of his pant leg free at the knee before she could carefully peel the strips of ragged leather and cloth from the edges of the coagulating wounds themselves.

It was not a pleasant job, but one that had to be done, and thankfully, Rylen didn't stir from his brief faint while she cleaned and treated the three gashes the varghest had left on his leg. The skirt of her coat was sacrificed to make bandages, covering the injury as best she could against the sand he lay on. Then she turned her care onto removing that dented armor from him, knowing from experience that it was not a comfortable experience to have such deep dents in a breastplate. And, of course, she had to check his torso wasn't injured. The slight tremble in her fingers as she unfastened his gambeson and shirt had nothing to do with the fact that she was undressing her commanding officer, nothing at all. She was just making certain he wasn't carrying any more injuries.

That _didn't_ explain why she let her hands skim over his bare skin even after she'd ascertained he was unharmed but for his leg, silently delighting in the prickle of dark hair under her palms as his chest rose and fell with each breath. Elven men she'd known didn't have much in the way of body hair; some of the human men she'd seen shirtless had far too much of it. But Rylen ... the dark spread across his chest, thinning and narrowing to a teasing trail that dipped beneath the waist of his pants; that did something to her. Something warm and exciting that she wasn't entirely sure she should be entertaining while he was prone and helpless under her touch.

"Enjoying yourself, lass?"

Corinne jumped, snatching her hands back as though burned as her eyes snapped up to find Rylen watching her, a half-smile tugging at his lips with teasing assurance.

"I-I was ..." She trailed off, feeling her cheeks start to burn under his knowing, growing smile. "Shut up."

Embarrassed that he'd not only _seen_ her admiring him, but _felt_ it, too, Corinne turned her face away as he chuckled, lifting the hem of her loose shirt to inspect her own sore hip. No cut, thankfully, but that was quite the bruise rising. She must have landed harder than she'd thought. A grunt and the sound of metal scraping at her side told her Rylen was pulling himself to sit up, his back against the weathered wall behind him once he'd swept the cracked back-plate of his armor out of the way. A faint _thwap_ of quilted leather onto sand told her he'd removed his gambeson, too. The mental image of him sitting there in nothing but his open shirt and leather breeches did not help her cool her cheeks.

"You did a good job on this," he commented, drawing her gaze to where he was inspecting his newly bandaged leg. "Doesn't hurt so much. That water magic or something?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "I had a healing potion," she told him, tucking a loose hank of hair back behind her ear.

His reaction was not what she'd expected. Instead of just accepting her action, he frowned disapprovingly. "And you used it on me?" he asked superfluously. "You should have bandaged me up and used it yourself, Corinne."

"I don't need it, _Rylen_ ," she countered, deliberately using his name just as she was sure he had deliberately used hers.

"Oh, aye?" His head tilted, the dark line of ink along the left side of his nose stark against the tanned pallor of his skin. "I'm not the one bleeding from the head here."

"I'm not ..."

She raised her hand to her temple as he gestured, and sure enough, it stung to make contact. Not bleeding exactly, but she'd definitely scraped her face getting to safety. Odd, that she hadn't noticed it. Or perhaps not - she'd been so focused on him that the battered state of her own body had completely passed her by. Rylen's scowl softened into a wry smile at the confusion on her face.

"Wet that cloth and set your backside over here," he told her, beckoning with one arm. "I'll clean you up."

A part of her wanted to say no, purely because she didn't trust herself that close to him in such an undressed state. But he was injured, and if she was honest with herself, so was she. Though her own hurts were not so bad as his had been before she'd applied the potion, she felt weary and aching, anxiety rippling in her stomach for the fact that it would be some time yet before the soldiers even reached the Keep, much less sent help back for them. She sighed, pausing to pull her boots off before crawling over to sit beside him against the wall. Might as well be comfortable.

"Oy, no, not there." Rylen shook his head at her. "Don't think I didn't see that wince. Set yourself here and let me check you over."

He patted his thighs invitingly. Corinne raised a brow as she looked at him, a small smirk touching her lips.

"Knight-Captain, is it really appropriate to be asking your scout-commander to sit on your lap?"

He snorted with laughter. "I could make it an order, if that'd make you feel better about it," he offered, patting his thighs once again. "Come here, lass. You're not the only one needs taking care of, you know."

"One wonders, captain, if you are not taking advantage of your own state in this situation," she pointed out, trying to hide another wince as she rose onto her knees beside him.

"One can talk like an Orlesian stuffed shirt all one likes, but one's not settling until one has those braes off," he countered, tapping gently at her thigh. "You're favoring your right, Corinne. Needs checking." He watched as she hesitated. "You've got _me_ half-naked, lass. S'only fair you join me."

Corinne felt the laugh before it erupted, shaking her head in the face of his suddenly grinning logic. "Fair is fair, I suppose," she conceded, trying not to giggle as she pushed the wet cloth into his hand and rose onto her feet.

Yes, she was favoring her right leg; her right ankle, to be more precise, but for some reason, she didn't feel the urge to point out that removing her pants just for him to look at her ankle wasn't necessary. This - whatever this was - didn't seem to be purely about her commanding officer checking on her physical health. And she found she didn't mind it. _More_ than didn't mind it; she was content to strip out of the form-fitting leather under his gaze, enjoying the way his eyes raked down the length of her legs and back up again to where the hem of her shirt skimmed her thighs.

"Enjoying the view, are we?" she asked, echoing his tease upon waking.

Rylen chuckled, patting his thighs again. "I've rarely seen a better view than the one you present," he told her, and to her surprise, she believed him. He might be human, but she'd never known him to lie. "Come here, let me look at you properly."

Feeling a hopeful flutter deep inside at his oft-repeated invitation, she set her pants aside, stepping over to lower down onto her knees, straddling his thighs. She couldn't sit too far back, fearful of jogging his healing lower leg, yet didn't dare settle herself snug to his chest as she wanted to. There was still that line there, marking the place between friendship and something more, a line she was not certain she could cross without his help. Settled there, she let her hands hover between them for a moment, finally decided to clasp her hands at her back.

"Arrived, have you?" he challenged, earning himself another roll of her eyes. "Now then, let's look at you."

"You are an arse, Rylen," she informed him with matter-of-fact certainty.

He flashed a grin that was pure mischief back at her. "Never said a truer word, lass."

Corinne laughed, letting her arms relax as his hands began to skim over her thighs. Despite herself, she felt her muscles tense under his touch, the soft warmth of rousing embarrassment at her own reaction to those callused fingers rising in her cheeks once again. She hissed softly as his palm pressed into the bruise at her hip, catching his concerned gaze for a moment before his eyes lowered to the offended joint. Those firm hands of his, so used to bearing sword and shield, were gentle as he lifted the hem of her shirt, inspecting the darkening flesh that had borne the brunt of her headlong rush into the immovable barrier of his armor in her panic to get him through that narrow gap.

"You should have run," he repeated quietly, his expression dark with concern at the sight of just a bruise when he had suffered far worse.

"I told you," she answered him, barely even thinking about it as she raised her arms, allowing him to guide the loose shirt higher to inspect her ribs, "I will not leave you."

Blue eyes found hers once again - blue eyes that were not so plain as she had first thought, she realised. Dark rings surrounded the iris, a darkness that poured through the lightening spectrum of blue to just barely touch the gray of a dawning sky before the black of his pupils expanded beneath her gaze. The rough skin of his fingers gently cupped her chin as he finally raised the cloth to wipe the dirt and sand from her bloodied temple.

"Even if I ordered it?" he asked, that warm brogue of his low enough to rumble from his chest into her, the vibration setting off sparks she knew only too well were all for him.

"Even then," she murmured, tentative hands coming to rest at his shoulders, partly on warm skin, partly on the shirt that still hung from his arms. "Even an Orlesian elf knows that some things come before duty."

He stilled at her touch, his thumb lightly brushing the pillow of her lower lip as _something_ crackled in the air between them. Something that brought storms into his eyes, a sureness to his touch; something that urged her to cross that line between them, if only by a single step. Corinne eased herself closer, closing the gap between them to settle snug against him, hip to hip and everything in-between. Her hands softened against his shoulders, a moment of hesitation before allowing her fingers to glide over the warmth of his skin, her palms to find their place at his jaw, against the pulse that beat erratically in his throat. His breath warmed her lips as she inched just that little bit closer, feeling his hands fall from her face to skim the curve of her spine through loosen linen with a tremble in his own fingers.

"Orlais is your birthplace," he murmured to her. "Elf is your race. The woman you are ... Corinne, you're far more than where and who you were born."

Her gaze flickered back and forth between his eyes, knowing that the point of no return was a single breath away. "But am I enough, Rylen?" she whispered back, almost afraid of what he might say in answer.

"Only you can say that for sure, lass." The tip of his nose circled hers, palms flattening gently against her back, not demanding anything more than she was ready to give. "But for me? Aye, you're _more_ than just enough."

Of all the things he could have said, that hit deeper than anything she had expected to hear from him. That sweet lack of care that she was an elf and he a human; his disregard of her Orlesian background when he despised all things Orlais; his quiet assurance that the woman in his arms, the woman she was at the very core of her being, was what he wanted.

Corinne's breath left her in a rush as she closed that short distance between them, her lips pressed tight to his as tentative hands forgot to be wary, fingers sliding into the dark fall of his hair, thumb stroking down the length of his throat, tasting him, teasing him, heedless of those societal rules impressed on them both all the long years of their lives. And he welcomed her, the slide of his arms encompassing her narrow waist to pull her firm against his chest as his lips parted, inviting her to taste more, to be tasted, touched, kissed the way no man had ever kissed her before. She'd been desired before, but this was the burning sun compared with bonfires, embers held banked in fear of what he might think of her quiet longing allowed air to burst into joyful flame as she took what he offered and gave back the same.

They weren't captain and scout here and now; nor were they human and elf. They were Rylen and Corinne, and that made all the difference.

He was so _warm_ in her arms, so willing and wanting, so confident to touch when she had been so certain he would never even consider such a thing. Each kiss grew more urgent as she shifted against him, feeling the rise of his arousal in the prod that taunted the gathering dew between her legs, unable to keep her hips from rocking in slow mischief against his own. She swallowed his groan, her lips curving in a grin at the knowledge that he was no more immune than she was, at the sensation of his hands pushing beneath the hang of her shirt to feel her skin, trace the curve of her spine. His lips tore from hers with a gasping breath, leaving no time or chance for a moment's hesitation before his mouth found purchase on the slender strait of her neck. Her unhurt temple pressed to his hair as he nipped at her tender flesh, her breath bearing the ghost of his name to the rounded tip of his ear as his hand slipped to her side to skim upward and claim the covered swell of her breast.

"Ry ... Rylen ..."

Her breath hitched in her throat as he tugged at the secure wrapping, as it slid down to bare her breast with its tender, aching peak to the callused tenderness of his talented touch.

"Sweet Andraste," came his groan at her throat, that other hand sliding down to press against the first curve of her backside, urging her restless rocking to rub harder, closer, more intimately than she thought she could bear. "Fen-... Corinne, lass ... are you ... can-can we ...?"

"Yes ... oh, sweet Maker, yes ..."

Hands bumped hands as they dove between one another, hers seeking the laces on his pants, his tugging the laces of her smalls open to drag the brief garment out of their way. She shuddered at that delightfully wicked sensation, only to whimper in pain as his hand closed over the bruise that covered her hip.

"Ach ... sorry," he mumbled, the words already lost as her lips found his once more, stealing the breath he needed to apologize with for more of those searing kisses.

She felt his entire being judder as his pants came open under her tugging, as she finally held his bare cock in her grasp, stroking without conscious thought, encircling his girth with her fingers with a soft gasp for how _thick_ he seemed in her slender hand. He was no elf, that was for sure, dragging her ever closer as the sand scratched at her knees. She heard herself groan as that sweet thickness pressed between wet lips, coating his length in the essence of her desire for him as her hips bucked with wild impatience.

"Gently, lass," Rylen murmured into her kiss, his hands flattening to slow her motion even as they both felt him jump against her.

A low giggle bubbled from her chest at his own body's betrayal, his lips grinning against her own in answer. There was no real need to wait, surely. They would have other times to share this way. Drawing back, she traced her fingertips down over his chest, reveling again in the strange, wonderful prickle of dark hair beneath her palms, her temple pressed to his as they both followed the line of her touch to the slick point of destination. Up she rose, finding a soft thrill in the way he moaned her name into her cheek, guiding him into her with a tender moan of her own.

"Andraste's _tits_ ..."

Whether it was his exclamation or hers, their voices mingled in that moment of joining, both experiencing each other in a way few could claim of either. Corinne trembled as she fought to stay relaxed, trying to accommodate more man than she had taken before. It had been a while, but even so ... Rylen was bigger than any lover she'd had before by the simple fact of his race. Yet even as she struggled, he somehow managed to keep control of himself, stilling his rising hips, preventing his hands from pushing her further than she could go.

His fingers curled into the loosening tangle of her bound hair, drawing her back into a tender kiss as she moaned once again, his tongue teasing hers in a slow dance that drew her mind away from the feeling of being defeated almost before they began. That other hand, so large and so _kind_ , found its way between them, smoothing a tantalizing rhythm around the proud nub of her clit. He swallowed her gasp at this startling understanding of the female form, any thought of jealousy against the women who had taught him chased away by a rippling surge of pure spine-tingling pleasure. Her fingers flexed, touching, stroking, gripping his arms, his shoulders, tugging at his hair, so close for a fragile moment before she stilled his fingers with her own, wicked pride curving her mouth into an inviting smile as she found herself set close against him, every inch of her human lover buried deep in her throbbing quim.

Rylen caught her smile, a low rumble of a laugh vibrating from his chest to hers as he smoothed his hands over her sides, gathering the soft linen of her shirt into his palms. "You look like the cat that caught the canary, lass," he teased, his own voice a hair's breadth from shaking with the effort of holding still in that long, unified moment.

Tilted just so against him, barely an inch above his own height even here in this intimate embrace, Corinne let out a soft huff of laughter, daring to let her hands travel over the warmth of his chest, tucking beneath the open hang of his shirt to smooth over his sides as she slowly circled her hips. She forced her eyes to stay open, to watch as the breath caught in Rylen's throat, as the tendons in his neck stood proud with the effort of _not_ seizing her hard and demanding the rhythm he clearly desired above all else. She could _feel_ him shaking, touched that he thought so much of her he would not even request more until she made that first move.

"You are a little bigger than a canary, Rylen," she pointed out, her voice husky as she gathered herself close, lips teasing his. "Guide me," she whispered into his open-mouthed kiss. " _Command_ me."

His groan poured into her mouth, filling her with the taste of his breath as his fingers flexed against her back. "No, lass," he refused. "I'll not command, not here, now now. Love _with_ me, if you will, but never by my command."

Her breath stuttered in her throat, unexpectedly moved by his insistence that even in this, they were _equals_. He had never treated her as anything less than his equal in work; what a joy it was to discover that this attitude of his extended even here, to this unified moment, where he refused to take her will away from her even when she asked. Holding his gaze, she felt the clench of his fingers in the loose folds of her shirt, silently raising her arms in invitation - an invitation he took only to reach beneath and untangle the laces of her breastband, pulling her underwear from her body but allowing her the illusion of the linen shirt to keep her from total nakedness while he could not join her in the same state. Yet even that felt intimate, a sharing of something private to send a tingling flutter through her skin as his palms rose beneath that shirt to cup and tease the small mounds that filled his hands almost perfectly.

Corinne gasped, unconsciously arching into the warmth of his touch, her chin rising as instinct drove her to gently rock against him, limbs shaking at the merest hint of motion inside her. Rylen's hand slithered to her back, still beneath the hang of her shirt, smoothing up the dipped curve of her spine to curl his callused fingers gently at the base of her neck, pulling her closer as her lips sought his own, her fingers restless over his chest, his arms, into the sweat-damp clump of his dark hair. WIth a last flick on his thumb over the aching peak of her nipple, he let his left hand send rippling fingertips down to her unbruised right hip, finally offering the guidance, the unspoken command, she had asked him for in the curling grip of his palm to the curve of her bottom as his own hips shifted. His uninjured leg bent just enough to alter her angle, enough to pour a gasp from her lips to his as he groaned back to her, giving him purchase to add a gentle thrust to her rocking tease against him. _Just_ enough to jolt her back toward that fragile precipice, knowing he was not far behind her.

"C-Corinne, lass, I ..." Rylen let his head fall forward, pressing his face into the slender line of her neck as they moved together, his breath hot against her skin as they clung to one another, shuddering on the edge of something that might bind them even closer or make their working lives unbearable. "Inside you ... I can't do that ... I ... _Maker's hand_ , I won't -"

_"Risk it."_

"Fuck ..."

His incoherent growl was lost into the crook of her throat as he gripped her tight, pulling her down to flick his thumb over the throbbing bud of her clit and bring her with him into the sparking rush of intimate pleasure they had somehow found together after too many weeks of pretending their attraction did not exist.

Was that _her_ voice, were those _her_ words? Was what she felt for this dark, kind, beautiful human strong enough to risk bearing a human child in her womb? But it wasn't such a risk, was it? There were potions she could take, herbs that grew wild in the Western Approach she could use to prevent any consequences. Yet that was the last thing on her mind right now. She _wanted_ to feel him find his pleasure inside her, to know that she had given him everything she had to give willingly. Did he know how rare it was for an elf to feel so _safe_ in the arms of a human?

Not only safe, but ... Corinne's mind reeled back from the word that was trying to make itself known. It was too soon. Whatever this was between them, it was too new to even contemplate _that_.

Her lips brushed his temple as they shuddered together in the aftermath, his hands damp with his sweat and hers as his grasp softened, touch skating over sensitive skin to retreat from beneath her shirt and find a new wrap of his arms about her waist as he raised his head, blue eyes blinking stars from his vision as his lips sought hers for a tender kiss. Once, twice ... gentle touches that never grew insistent or demanding, giving more than taking in the slow spiral downward from the heights she had never allowed herself to hope they might find together.

She felt his lips part in a grin, forcing her own eyes open as her mouth curved in answer, her slender fingers finally releasing their tight grip of his hair to skate over the prickling stubble of his jaw. Her thumb smoothed over the full softness of his grinning lips, a quiet huff of laughter escaping her throat.

"What is so funny, captain?"

He kissed the pad of her thumb affectionately. "Just wondering what our troops would think if they found us like this."

A dull flush of horror crossed her face, her eyes widening in dismay just at the thought of that. "They ... surely they cannot be close enough to find us like this?"

He must have felt her sudden tension, the wrap of his arms tightening before she could even begin to pull away from him. His brow found a place to settle against her own as he answered her.

"No, lass, they aren't," he promised her, that beautiful accent of his somehow thicker in this private moment between them. "And I'll let you free to present yourself solidly as my second long before they arrive here, I swear it. T'was a foolish thought, that's all. Let me be a fool for once. A man's allowed to be foolish when he's holding the woman he wants in his arms."

Corinne hesitated only a moment, letting herself be reassured as she relaxed into his embrace.

"Wants?" she whispered softly, almost ashamed of the uncertainty in her tone.

His eyes opened, one arm untangling itself from her waist to curl his palm to her jaw with a gentle touch. "Aye, lass, _wants_ ," he agreed quietly. "There's more than the physical here. Or am I wrong to feel it?"

"N-no," she answered, just as quietly, yet wary of putting a name to what might be happening here. "But ..."

His expression grew somehow more tender, the dark lines of ink on his face drawing a sharp contrast between the sweetness of his gaze and the coarseness of his weathered appearance. "There's no need to put words to it," he murmured, seeming to guess at her hesitation. "Just knowing there's a chance is enough."

A flicker of relief warmed her smile as she relaxed into him once again.

"Yes," she agreed tenderly. "It is enough."

_Enough_ would do for now, in this harsh place where darkspawn and monsters roamed, where the sun shone on a desert that was always cold, in a world that still trembled on the brink of destruction. _Enough_ would hold her through the promise of long nights and dark danger ahead, with the attack on the fortress of Adamant so near in their future. And perhaps, one day afterward, _enough_ would have the name they were both reluctant to claim.

But right now, for captain and spy, for human and elf, for man and woman ... it was _enough._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love! :) If you fancy it, come find me on [tumblr](https://shannaraisles.tumblr.com/) \- I occasionally post interesting things!


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